


you're gonna be buying hoagies for two... for a while

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Anxiety, Banter, First Dates, Gay Panic, Iceman (2018), M/M, Sandwiches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 12:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17725145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Bobby's been lowkey crushing on Bishop for ages. Maybe it's finally their time.





	you're gonna be buying hoagies for two... for a while

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Iceman (2018) #1 and after Iceman (2018) #5.

The thing is that Bobby’s expecting to walk down the hall and meet up with a team comprised of his peers and acquaintances, and he’s not expecting to turn a corner and see Lucas Bishop, alone, manspreading across the loveseat and slowly peeling an apple with a paring knife. He covers up his surprise (and anything else he’s feeling) by just being pissed at Kitty. “One sec,” he says, yanking out his phone.

“Something wrong?” Bishop asks, unfolding himself leisurely from the loveseat like they’ve got all the time in the world, and Bobby’s studiously staring at his phone and definitely  _ not _ at the way Bishop’s leg muscles bunch up and then stretch out as he stands. 

“Kitty painted a different picture,” he mumbles, texting her furiously. “Just checking on something.” He steps away, tapping his foot until Kitty responds with the whole story— the rest of the team got an urgent call from Jean and her squad, so it’s just him and Bishop today. Which is… well, it’s definitely  _ something _ . 

“Iceman and Bishop team-up,” Bobby cheers, slapping on a cheesy smile and cracking a Vanilla Ice joke. “So, how much did Kitty tell you?”

“Just that you were looking into some Morlock disappearances,” Bishop says. A tiny fleck of apple peel drops beneath his lip, and Bobby has to stare at his feet to stop himself from reaching out and brushing it away. When he looks up, it’s gone. 

The thing is that Bobby’s realizing there’s not actually much of a difference at all between being a dumbass closeted kid who’s barely old enough to rent a car having a crush on Lucas Bishop... and being an almost-thirty out gay man having a crush on Lucas Bishop. Both experiences are pretty fucking torturous.

* * *

“I don’t like this,” Bobby says quietly, his footsteps echoing in the damp sewer. “Reminds me of when Warren first lost his wings. That was the Mutant Massacre. Before your time.”

“Everything’s before my time,” Bishop points out, his eyes glinting in the half-light. “But I’ve read the files. It must have been… terrible.”

“Yeah, it was,” Bobby agrees, accidentally stepping in a puddle and recoiling. “Can’t say I’m psyched about diving back into the sewers. Especially without much backup, jeez.” Bishop grumbles something, and Bobby realizes that he hasn’t stopped complaining since they dropped through the manhole. “What?”

“I don’t need to be here, either, Drake,” Bishop reminds him. 

“Then why are you here?” Bobby says, sounding stupid and childish even to himself. 

Bishop says simply, “You need help.”

Bobby hears the wrong thing. “Oh,  _ that’s _ mature. How about we deal with whether or not I need therapy after we sort out the Morlock mess?” 

Bishop stares at him. “I meant you need help  _ with _ the Morlock mess.”  _ Oh _ . Obviously. This might be one of those times where turning to vapor looks more and more appealing. “You asked me why I’m here, that’s why. You needed help. I could have just as easily gone to Searebro, but I didn’t. And not just because of my chronic inner ear problems.” 

Bobby smiles thoughtfully and then turns around to look at Bishop. “Did you just crack a joke?”

“Stick around, Drake,” Bishop says, plowing on ahead of him. “I might surprise you.”

* * *

It turns out Bishop is deadly serious about those hoagies Bobby owes him. The day after Mutant Pride he knocks on Bobby's door at approximately 11 a.m., already dressed and ready to go. “Would you like to get lunch now?”

Bobby scrubs sleep out of his eyes, still in his PJ pants and the t-shirt he slept in, aware that his hair is probably a disaster zone. “ _ Now _ ?” he says.

“Subway gets very busy at noon,” Bishop explains. “We could beat the lunch rush.”

“Yeah, well— wait,  _ Subway _ ?” Bobby says, trying to get his brain and mouth on the same track. Bishop's knock woke him up, and he's still caught up in the dream he was having about Judah and Daken and, for some reason, David Hasselhoff. “Dude, if we're getting subs we're going to a  _ real _ sandwich shop.”

Bishop looks confused. “Subway isn't real?”

“It's real  _ garbage _ is what it is,” Bobby sniffs. He's not normally a snob but if there's one thing he gets snobbish about, it's sandwiches. “Gimme two minutes to get dressed. I'll take you to an actually good sandwich place.”

He shuts the door and runs a hand through his bedhead, trying to assess the damage. Tugging on jeans and a t-shirt that may or may not have been one Jeannie bought at a Journey concert, he stumbles into the bathroom and frantically works some gel into his hair. (He tries brushing his teeth at the same time, which doesn't go well but he's proud of his effort.)

“Alright!” Bobby announces, stepping out into the hall almost exactly two minutes later. “Let's rock and roll.”

The sandwich shop Bobby takes him to is in the Village and it's called Best Thing Since Sliced Bread Eatery. “This place has been around forever,” he explains while he gets the door for Bishop. “We used to come here all the time, the original five of us.”

“Mm,” Bishop hums distractedly, looking around the establishment. There are a dozen or so mismatched tables scattered about the place, some of them occupied by couples enjoying brunch or lunch. 

Is this a date? Bobby isn't sure. He leads Bishop past the gelato case toward the lunchmeat counter. 

“You can get one of the specials or make-your-own,” he explains, pointing to the chalkboard menu. There are so many options on it that some of the sandwich options are squeezed into the corners of the chalkboard, scrawled in teeny-tiny letters. “I usually get pastrami on rye, with mustard.” He brings his fingers to his mouth and mimes a chef's kiss. “ _ Muah _ ! Perfection.”

Bishop stares at the menu for almost five minutes, letting the next people who enter go in front of them in line, before he gives up and shakes his head. “It's too many choices. I'll just have what you're having.”

“ _ Excellent  _ choice,” Bobby says. He orders both sandwiches at the register, pays with a credit card, drops a very, very wrinkled $5 bill into the tip jar. 

They find a table for two by the window, and Bishop  _ pulls out the chair for him _ like a damn  _ gentleman _ , forcing Bobby to wonder yet again if this is a date. By the time the sandwich shop employee brings over their food, Bobby’s already lost track of the conversation twice, so distracted by the way Bishop’s hands move when he talks, by the deep-rich-smooth sound of his voice. He sounds like what French press coffee would sound like if it spoke. 

Bishop talks about some of the readings from the future he’s been getting and tells Bobby a funny story about his time solving crime in Mutant Town. Bobby talks about a recent training session he had with Michaela Ladak and how proud he is of her, how far she’s coming along. 

A little voice in Bobby’s head points out that it could be like this all the time. Not fighting for their lives, not dedicating every waking minute to the survival of their species. It could just… be like this.  _ This _ could be his status quo, and wouldn’t that be something? 

When they’re done with their sandwiches, they order gelato. Bobby gets mango and Bishop, instead of following his lead this time, opts for coffee flavor. 

“I’m glad we came here instead of Subway,” Bishop admits, admiring his gelato for a moment before actually tasting it. “I’ve never had gelato before.”

“Dude, there’s so much food I gotta introduce you to,” Bobby says. “You’ve been livin’ off, what? Ramen and Jimmy Dean? You need a fooducation.” 

“A  _ what _ ?”

“You know, like a food education. We’ll hit all the classics,” Bobby explains. “Bagels and lox, cheeseburgers with grilled pineapple and teriyaki sauce, fried mozzarella.” He stops talking and laughs.

“What?”

“You got a little… ?” Bobby points to his own nose to let Bishop know that he’s currently got a dollop of coffee gelato on his nose. “Right there.”

“Oh,” Bishop says. He tries to wipe it off with his napkin, but there’s still gelato on his face. “Did I get it?”

“No,” Bobby says. “Hang on.” He leans across the table to swipe off the gelato with his finger, pulls back, and then— 

And then Lucas Bishop licks it off his finger. 

“JesusfuckingChrist,” Bobby manages, floored, wanting either to laugh, scream or drag Bish into the bathroom. 

“Sorry,” Bishop says, looking only mildly embarrassed. “You weren’t getting my other hints.” 

“WHAT OTHER HINTS?”

“The look,” Bishop says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“The look?”

“When we sat down, I gave you a  _ look _ .” 

“I missed it, then,” Bobby says. “Give me the look again.” Bishop stares at him, his expression unmoving. “That was the look?”

“Of course that was the look.”

“H-how is that different from your resting expression?!” Bobby splutters.

“It’s  _ loaded _ , Drake.” 

“Holy shit,” Bobby says flatly, shaking his head. His own gelato is melting in his hand, unnoticed. He could probably save it with some fast-freeze action, but he’s currently too focused on the man across the table. “So this  _ is _ a date?”

“Well, obviously.” Bishop falters. “If… that’s alright?”

“It’s… yeah,” Bobby says, reaching across the table and taking Bishop’s hand in his. It’s larger and warmer than his own hand, and even though holding another man’s hand in a public place still  _ kind  _ of freaks him out, Bishop makes him feel safe. “It’s the most alright thing in the world.” 


End file.
